Tempting Fate
by Zeroninety
Summary: In 1994, Stormer and Roxy find themselves at odds when Stormer insists the Misfits get blood tests. (A story for World AIDS Day).


Tempting Fate

All rights, etc. belong to Hasbro.

_For World AIDS Day, 2012_

* * *

I never had a best friend.

I had friends, sure. I may have been shy, but I always had friends in grade school, junior high, and high school.

But I never had a _best_ friend.

I never had that friend that I could talk to about anything on my mind.

I never had that friend who could share a single glance with me that could make us dissolve into giggles.

I never had that friend who knew all my secrets, and trusted me with hers.

I just had, "Hey Mary, you wanna come too?"

That's what happens when you're different, I suppose.

Nothing meant more to me than music, for as long as I could remember. I liked clothes, and makeup, and a little gossip, but not nearly as much as music.

And boys? Well, it took me a lot longer to figure out how I really felt about that.

I guess I was always a misfit.

* * *

"So how long does it take to get the results to this stupid test, anyway?"

Pizzazz fidgeted in her seat as she took another swig from her "#1 Mom" coffee cup. She gave Dr. Fletcher a glare as she waited for an answer.

The petite redhead told her nurse to give her a moment, before turning back to us. "It normally takes about two weeks before the results come back from the lab."

Pizzazz groaned and slammed her cup on the coffee table. "What a joke! What am I paying you for?" She glanced at me and shook her head. I tried not to look back at her.

Dr. Fletcher tried to respond. "Miss Gabor-"

"How much'll it cost to get the results back quicker?" Pizzazz butted in.

"Yeah, like, this afternoon?" Jetta added, unhelpfully.

The doctor sighed. "Ma'am, I'm afraid it doesn't work like that, you see-"

Pizzazz let out a loud screech and stomped out of the room.

Jetta leaned over and gave me a wink. "Your little plan's going just brill, innit, Stormer?"

She had a point.

Dr. Fletcher turned back to us after conferring some more with her nurse. "We should have everything set up in about twenty minutes."

I put on a smile for Jetta. "Well, that gives us time to get Roxy and Pizzazz back in here."

Jetta tapped her finger along her chin and sighed. "Well, 'ave fun with that, Yank."

"Me?" I tried to look her in the eyes, now mostly covered by long, black bangs. "I could use your help."

"Well, this was your idea, chickie. I mean, I'm not worried at all—I already went through this rubbish when me and me Andy got married."

I never feel like arguing. "Ok. I'll be back with the others soon."

"Yeah, these two seem like a barrel of laughs," Jetta moaned, pointing to the doctor and nurse as they set up the tests.

"You could always come with me," I reminded her.

Jetta groaned. "All right, you win. I don't know what crawled up your bum about diseases and whatnot, but we might as well get this over with."

"Good." I tried to think of what to do next. "Um, maybe you should talk to Pizzazz, and I'll get Roxy."

Jetta patted me on the shoulder and smirked. "You're a regular Monty, you are."

I hoped that was good.

* * *

As I stepped outside into the muggy late morning air, I heard clattering sounds coming from out back, near the pool and tennis courts. Claude, the gardener, had told me a moment earlier that he'd seen Roxy head that way. I shaded my eyes from the sun as I followed the odd popping sound that made me think of my brother in the driveway in wintertime.

Sure enough, a minute later, I found Roxy on the blacktop next to the helipad, where she'd asked Pizzazz to have a basketball hoop set up. She dribbled the ball a few times, then took a step back and shot. The ball caromed off the rim and bounced towards me. I jumped out of the way and let it roll past me, towards the grass.

"Little help?" Roxy called out.

"Huh?"

She threw up her arms. "Throw me the fuckin' ball!"

"Oh." I picked up the ball and heaved it toward her. It went about ten feet to the left and bounced towards the guard dog kennels.

As Roxy ran to retrieve the ball she shouted, "You really do suck, Stormer!"

This wasn't going as well as I'd hoped.

Roxy hardly looked ready for a game as she went back to idly dribbling. She'd become enthusiastic about denim lately, and she paced the court in her denim vest, over her denim blouse, which matched her denim skirt. She struggled to keep her balance in her six-inch denim heels as she took a shot that barely scraped the bottom of the net, and whacked against the metal pole the basket was attached to.

"The doctor's here," I told her. "She said she should be ready to start the test in about fifteen minutes."

"So what?" Roxy fired another shot at the basket. The ball clattered off the front of the hoop, and soon bounced back to her hands.

"You agreed to take the test," I reminded her.

She dribbled the ball without looking at me. "You up for a game of H.O.R.S.E.?" she asked.

"You mean, with a basketball?"

That must've been funny, cause she started snickering at me.

"Yeah, I guess you're no Pistol Pete."

I smiled. "That sounds familiar. I think he was my brother's favorite when we were kids."

Roxy switched the ball from one hand to the other, repeatedly. "Hmm…maybe Craig's not as big an asshole as I thought."

I tried to summon up my most stern expression. "Roxy, the doctor's gonna be ready to give the test soon."

"Tell her to blow it out her ass," she grumbled, as she tossed up another shot that missed the hoop entirely. "I'm not doing it, so quit buggin' me."

"But you promised me," I reminded her. "You know how worried I am."

Roxy slammed her ball against the pavement. "I don't have AIDS, Stormer! I keep tellin' you that, but you never listen!" She sat on the ball and folded her arms as she fumed.

I tried moving closer to her, but she turned away from me. "But, after everything that happened, wouldn't it be better to know for sure?"

"Can the stupid euphemisms," she muttered. "I did heroin, so now you think I'm gonna die. You think I'm gonna be the next Ricky Saturn, or some shit like that."

I took a seat on the blacktop next to her. "Yeah, you did heroin. For well over a year. And if you shared needles with anyone…"

"Fuck!" Roxy shouted. "No matter what you think, I'm not stupid! After me and Tony broke up, I always shot up alone. I mean, there were two or three times I did it with someone else, after that, but that's all. Four or five, tops."

I reached out to put my hand on her shoulder, but she scooted away from me. "I just want to make sure. For all of us. They say that if they find out early enough that someone has HIV, they might be able to keep it under control."

"Buncha bullshit," she snorted. "They just wanna get people hooked on their medications. Trust me, I know how pushing works."

I didn't quite know how to respond to that. "Yeah, I don't think that's really what they're doing." I picked up a couple pieces of loose gravel and rolled them in my fingertips. "You've had colds three times this year, already."

"So what?" Roxy groaned. "I'm probably not getting enough vitamins, or something. 'Sides, we've been out on tour most of the year. Traveling all over the damn planet takes a lot out of me."

"I know," I nodded. "But isn't it better to be sure?"

Roxy jumped to her feet and launched another shot at the hoop. I turned in time to see it hit the rim, bounce upwards, come back down and hit the rim again, and finally bounce off and plummet to the pavement.

"Nearly got it that time," I told her, as cheerfully as I could.

"I don't wanna talk about this anymore. This is just dumb."

"No, it isn't," I told her, as I took the ball from her and tried to get her to face me. "It could be your life at stake! It's important to make sure that you made it through that whole nightmare without doing any permanent damage."

Roxy glared at me, her reddish-brown eyes ablaze. "What the fuck would you know about damage?" She grabbed the basketball and heaved it towards the mansion. It smacked against the outside wall with a mighty thud.

I knew she'd been aiming at a window.

* * *

I returned to the mansion in a daze, as I tried to think of another way to convince Roxy.

_Perhaps convincing won't work, _I thought. _We might have to conk her on the head and carry her to the test!_

I realized I might be able to convince Pizzazz and Jetta to help me with that plan, for the thrill value alone.

As I approached the sitting room, Pizzazz and Jetta emerged from the dining room and joined me in the hallway. "Well, ducks," Jetta snickered, "Looks like only one of us could do the job!"

I turned to Pizzazz and mustered a smile. "You're gonna take the test?"

She shrugged, "Might as well. I don't really need to, though. They already tested me for tons of crap when I was pregnant."

I nodded. "Yeah, but it's been a while, and you've had sex since Stevie was born…"

Pizzazz, for once, looked embarrassed. I could see why. She'd never been too careful about birth control: little Stevie was proof of that.

"Let's get this over with, Misfits," she muttered.

When we arrived, I was surprised to hear a man's voice coming from inside the sitting room. Not just any man either.

I saw the look of recognition cross Pizzazz's face. She flung open the door and looked straight into the eyes of her father.

"Daddy, I thought you were at the office. What's going on?"

Mr. Gabor puffed out his chest. "I should be asking you that, Phyllis!" His cheeks burned red as he ran his fingers through his white hair. "The lady doctor here says she's setting up a test for some kind of _sex disease_!"

Pizzazz spluttered her words. "It's just a test…it doesn't mean that…I mean, I'm not…"

"What she means," I blurted out, "is that it's not a 'sex disease.' It's a disease that's spread through contact with contaminated body fluids, and sex is a major way it can be spread, but not the only way. We're worried that a friend of ours may have been exposed to it, and we want to make sure we're all clean."

Once I'd finished, I began to realize how badly my hands were shaking.

Mr. Gabor stared at me. I don't think I'd said more than a few words to him in all the years I'd been a Misfit, so I guess he was trying to remember where he'd seen me before.

I felt an elbow jab my ribs. "Now you've done it, luv," Jetta whispered.

Pizzazz's father nodded softly as he rubbed his chin. "Is that so?" he mumbled. "All right, Stormy, then I suppose I should be tested as well. Better safe than sorry. Besides," he smiled, as he glanced at his daughter, "I'm paying for all this, aren't I?"

Pizzazz looked down at her purple pumps. "Well, yes, Daddy."

Mr. Gabor slipped off his jacket and turned to Dr. Fletcher. "Well, get your needle ready, Miss."

The doctor gave him a smile. "Take a seat and roll up your sleeve. My nurse will be with you in a minute."

"Fine, fine." As he took a seat in the chair, he looked back at us. "Where's Trixie? The blonde girl?"

The question hurt, and I turned away. Pizzazz told him, "Uh, she should be along later."

"All right. Well, you and Stormy and Maude can go after my turn."

"Oh, of course, Daddy," Pizzazz told him.

I felt my hands shaking again. I took a seat and tried not to think about Roxy, as Jetta wondered aloud, "Wait, 'Oo the 'ell's 'Maude'?"

* * *

"_Two plus two is four/Two plus two is four…"_

I heard the dopey, sing-song voice of Freddy Dinosaurus greeting me as I entered the nursery. Little Stevie Gabor had taken a brief break from his terrible twos and had parked himself on the floor in front of the big screen TV, his eyes locked onto the man in the purple dinosaur suit.

On the other side of the room, Roxy sat on a tiny green plastic chair, her knees nearly touching her chin, as she ran her fingers over a set of blocks arranged on the preschooler-sized oval table. She must have heard me walking towards her, but she refused to look up. With her gaze focused on the blocks, she asked, "How'd you know I was here?"

"I ran into Nastassja on her smoke break. She told me you were here." I tried to put my hand on her shoulder, but she brushed it away.

"That dumb bitch! Pizzazz always hires the worst piece o'shit nannies!"

I bent down and pressed my finger to my lips. "Roxy," I whispered, "Little pitchers!"

Roxy finally looked at me, and shrugged. "Say what?"

I pulled a little red chair over to me and nearly fell backwards as I tried to take a seat in it.

"Did it hurt?" Roxy asked. As I struggled to keep my balance, I noticed her eyes drawn to the white bandage that covered my elbow.

I resisted the urge to say, "A little bit," and told her, "Not really. It just feels kinda weird, that's all."

"Huh," she replied. She picked up a block with the letter "R" on it and tossed it over her shoulder. "And the others?"

"Pizzazz was about to get tested when I left to find you." I swallowed hard. "I hope you'll change your mind. This is really important."

Roxy groaned. "Aren't you the songwriter? Maybe you should spend more time writing some fucking songs, or something."

I picked up one of the blocks, an "L," and cradled it in my hands. "But I'm also your friend."

Roxy startled me when she swept the blocks off the table in a single move. "Yeah, you're such a great friend! Always reminding me of all the crap I wanna forget happened! Thanks a fuckin' bunch, Stormer!" She became agitated enough that she fell backwards and toppled onto the floor. Before I could help her up, she jumped to her feet and gave the little green chair a kick with her denim heel. "Stupid kid's junk," she muttered.

"Roxy," I tried to explain, "I'm not trying to…I mean, I'm not doing this to upset you. I'm just worried, that's all."

"Do I look like I'm dying?" she hissed, and threw in a couple half-hearted jumping jacks for good measure.

"Please, Roxy. I know this isn't easy, but I just need to know we're ok."

She stopped and stared at me. "Whaddya mean, 'We'?"

I looked down at my hands. "I…I didn't say that. I said I need to know you're ok."

"You're a crappy liar," she reminded me.

"I know," I whispered.

I looked up to see Stevie toddle over to us. He grabbed Roxy by the leg and began to sing, "Two plus two is four…"

Roxy sighed and picked him up. "Yeah, yeah, kid…we heard already. It's old news."

Stevie excitedly pushed his words through his uneven array of teeth. "Guess how much I wuv you, Aunt Woxy?"

She shrugged. "I got no clue, kid."

He stretched out his little arms as far as he could. "This much!" he announced, with an excited giggle.

Roxy tried her best to hide her smile from me. She put the boy down and told him, "Go play outside, or something. Maybe you and me can play later." Stevie laughed, broke into a shambling run, and rushed out of the nursery.

"We probably should keep an eye on him," I told Roxy, as we watched him go.

"Eh, he'll be ok." She shook her head. "Kids are so…"

"Cute?"

She looked nervous, then shot me a glare. "No, _dumb_!" She put her hand to her head, before giving her own hair a sharp tug. "Ok, what'd you mean by 'we'?"

I swallowed hard and tried to plan each word before I said it. "Do you remember when you told us you'd quit using, but you lied?"

Roxy folded her arms and stared at me. "Stormer…" She turned away from me and faced the sky blue wall.

"We all knew you were lying to us. Some days, you could barely stand up, but you still talked about how great you felt-"

"Stop it," she moaned, softly.

"And finally I convinced Pizzazz and Jetta to help me. We caught you in the act." I felt how dry my throat was, but I pressed on. "They held you down, and I pulled the needle from your arm."

I remember being in hysterics when it actually happened, but as I relived the events in my mind, I felt no emotion. Just emptiness, as if I was remembering something out of a movie, and not Roxy trying to destroy herself.

She turned to me, her eyes like saucers, and her mouth agape. "I don't remember any of that."

And then it all came rushing back, and I cried heavy tears.

"Hey, quit it," I heard her tell me, through gritted teeth. "It's all over now, ok? I'm fine." She placed her hand on my shoulder and gave me a shake. "You helped me, and I'm fine, right?"

I wiped away my tears and glanced up at her. "Concern" is an expression I'm not used to seeing on Roxy's face, and it unsettled me. It made it that much harder…

"I…the needle stuck me…right here." I pointed to a spot on my forearm, though no visible trace remained of the puncture.

But I still knew exactly where it was. I always will.

"When I pulled it…when I pulled it from your arm, you were thrashing around so much…I nearly dropped it…and it stuck me, right here."

I looked up to see that Roxy had folded her arms and begun shaking her head. "No, it didn't."

"Yes, it did."

"It couldn't have!" she insisted. "That's crazy! Surely, I'd remember."

"It was right here," I told her, pointing to the spot on my arm. "I ripped it out as fast as I could, so I could help the others hold you down." I had to gasp for breath before I choked out, "I held you that night, until you quit shaking."

Roxy didn't say anything. For a brief moment, I found that a relief.

As I paused to catch my breath and wipe my eyes, I heard the first slap. The sound was so sharp, I looked up to see where it had come from.

Then Roxy slapped her own face again, and again. Then the slaps turned to punches, and before I realized what was happening, she threw herself against the wall, and crashed to the floor.

"Roxy, stop!" I screamed, as she writhed on the floor, and banged her head against the wall. "Please, don't do this!"

I tried to grab her and pin her arms as she threw wild punches. "I'm shit," she sobbed. "I'm garbage."

I don't know where it came from, but somehow I found the extra strength I needed to grab Roxy's arms and stop her. "Please, just calm down," I told her, as I gasped for air.

Roxy's breaths were deep, yet rapid. "I shoulda died before…Stormer, I didn't mean to…you gotta believe me." Her tears dripped from her eyes as she pleaded, "You gotta believe me!"

I tried to calm myself down as much as I could (which wasn't very calm at all), and told her, "I know. I know you wouldn't try to hurt me. I know, Roxy."

"If I made you sick...Stormer, I don't know I…oh, fuck! What are we gonna do?"

I tried to draw her attention to the bandage on my arm. "That's why we need to take the test. As long as we know, we can move on, right? It's the not knowing that sucks."

Roxy gave a slight nod. She started to say, "I'm so-," but stopped herself. "It wasn't on purpose."

She had calmed enough that I let go of her arms and placed my hand on her cheek. "I know. It's ok," I told her, as I wiped a tear away.

"You should kick my ass," she groaned. "You should bash my brains in."

I gave a small laugh. "I can't even pass a basketball."

That got a smile out of her, and my stomach began to unknot itself.

"Roxy," I began, as I looked into her eyes, so she couldn't possibly misunderstand my words. "I forgive you. Even if the test comes back positive, I forgive you, ok?" She tried to hide her face when she began to cry again, so I placed my hand on her chin and made sure she couldn't look away. "If I had to do it all over again, I'd still help you." I couldn't stop my own tears. "You're my best friend, and I love you."

Roxy took several deep breaths and forced herself to stop crying. "You're a real wuss, you know?"

I pulled myself off her and helped her to her feet. "Yeah, I know."

She shook her head. "You're never gonna learn to be a real Misfit."

I grinned. "Probably not." I glanced over at her and saw her smirking. Before she could say anything, I threw my arms around her and hugged her tightly.

She didn't resist at first, but soon she pushed me away. "Ok, enough of that crap." She sighed, ran her hands through her hair, and announced, "Let's get this over with."

"You're gonna take the test?"

She rolled her eyes. "Nah, I'm gonna give the President a rimjob!"

"Eww!"

Roxy let out a laugh. "Such a wuss!"

I couldn't disagree.

As we began to leave, Roxy stopped and grabbed something off the floor. "Hey, you forgot this," she told me, as she handed me my daisy.

I hadn't noticed it had fallen out.

I placed it back into my blue curls as we headed back down the hallway, where we found Stevie writing his name on the walls.

* * *

We heard a scream as we approached the sitting room.

Roxy backed away from me. "The hell was that?"

"I…I don't know."

Another scream followed, and a whimpering shout: "Let go of me, you bloody butchers!"

"Jetta?" we asked in unison.

Roxy began to grin. "Ok, this I gotta see." She rushed past me and headed to the door. I soon hurried to catch up to her.

When we entered the room, we found Jetta crouched in the corner, holding a metal tray above her head as shield. "Bugger off, you vampires!"

Dr. Fletcher stood in wide-eyed amazement, while her nurse held the needle at her side in confusion.

Pizzazz sat on the arm of the couch, filing her nails, and occasionally picking at her new bandage.

"What's going on?" I asked.

Dr. Fletcher looked to me, her eyes pleading. "We simply tried to take the sample-"

"—And Miss Level-Headed Smarty Pants here is afraid of needles," Pizzazz sighed.

"I swear, I'll ring the British Embassy if you 'ags lay an 'and on me!" Jetta shrieked. "The Queen'll 'ave your 'ead!"

I turned to Roxy, who wore a wicked grin on her face. I wasn't sure how to feel about that.

"Hey, Doc!" she called out. "Why don't you let me have a crack? I'm sure I can squeeze a few quarts out of her."

"Bloody 'ell, you keep 'er away from me!"

Roxy gave me a wink, then asked, "What's worse, Jetta: the needle, or my patented Atomic Noogie?"

Without a word, Jetta put down the tray, walked over to the chair by the nurse, and rolled up her sleeve.

Roxy gave me a nudge. "What a drama queen, huh?" she smirked.

I glanced at the purple welt that had begun to form over Roxy's left eye. I forced a smile.

* * *

"Those mailmen don't know a damn thing! They keep sending all this junk mail to people who don't even live here!" Matilda moaned.

A couple weeks after the tests, I came down the stairs in my pjs shortly before noon, hungry for breakfast. I watched as Pizzazz's maid tossed three manila envelopes in the foyer trash, while leaving two on the end table. "Good morning, Matilda," I said with a yawn.

"Not likely!" she hissed. "At least with Miss Phyllis and her brat gone, my job's a little easier here for a little while…thank God!"

For the last week, life at the mansion had been pretty quiet, after Pizzazz left with Stevie and his nanny for month-long trip to Hawaii, while Jetta and Andy had left for the second leg of their honeymoon, in Bermuda.

Matilda mumbled something to herself about lazy rock stars as she headed towards one of the bedrooms. Once I reached the bottom of the stairs, I checked the mail and found that one of the envelopes she hadn't thrown away was addressed to Pizzazz, from the clinic our blood samples had been sent to. Under it was one addressed to her father.

I grabbed the trash can and dug through it. Sure enough, Matilda had thrown away mine, Roxy's, and Jetta's results.

"That bitch," I whispered. I checked over my shoulder to make sure she hadn't heard me.

* * *

I made it halfway up the stairs before I looked down at the envelopes in my hands.

_This is it. We're gonna find out now._

I stopped and ran my finger along the stamp.

_What if she's positive? What if we both are?_

I reached the top step and sat down.

_What will Pizzazz say? What will _Cool Trash_ say when they find out?_

I held up Roxy's envelope. I ran my fingernail along the edge.

_Maybe I should open it now. Once I know, that'll give me time to be brave before I tell her._

_I've gotta be brave._

_Roxy needs me to be brave._

_Everyone always needs me to be brave._

I jumped to my feet and rushed into the nearest empty bedroom. I tossed the letters aside and sank to the floor. I tried my best to cry without making a sound.

* * *

Not long after, I could feel the walls and floor rattle as I approached Roxy's room. She'd never seen much point in using headphones when she messed around on her bass, which is why I made sure my room was several doors down the hall.

I cradled the envelopes in my hand and tried to put on a smile. I hadn't seen much of Roxy since the day of the test. She'd stayed in her room, or gone out alone, and seemed to do her best to keep her distance from me.

I pounded on her door half a dozen times, but got no response. "Roxy!" I called out, "We got our test results back! Can you let me in?"

Still nothing.

I turned to leave when the rumbling stopped. Before I could face the door again, I heard it open behind me. "What's with all the racket?!" Roxy shouted.

She was still in her flannel pajamas, with her pearl white bass in hand. As soon as her eyes locked, she looked away. "Hey, uh, I'm kinda busy, Stormer."

I took a deep breath and held up the envelopes. "Our tests results came back."

"Oh."

Roxy stepped over a pile of dirty clothes, sat on her bed, and plucked the E-string of her bass, causing a low, growling rumble to fill the room. "I don't I think I…" she began, then switched gears. "I keep thinkin', 'What'll I do if I've got it?' I'll have to find a new place to live…I don't know how the fuck I'll fill up my days. I don't know what's in my bank account-if I have to start takin' a buncha pills, how long until I blow through all my money?"

Roxy began plucking her strings at random, a series of sharp, dissonant notes.

_I've got to be brave,_ I reminded myself.

I sat next to her. She inched away from me. "If the worst happens, we'll take care of you."

She threw her head back and laughed till she snorted. "Yeah, right. As soon as Pizzazz hears I've got AIDS, I'll be out on the street faster than you can say 'White Ford Bronco.'" (I guess even Roxy had been watching the news that week!)

I reached over and tried to take her hand. She pulled it away, so I grabbed it tight. "Whatever happens, you're still gonna be a Misfit, I promise you that."

"But, Pizzazz-"

"I _promise _you, ok?"

Roxy turned to look at me, her face streaked with confusion. "You really mean that, don't you?"

I had to fight hard to keep myself from crying again when she said that. Looking back, I wish I'd let myself.

"Look, it'll be easiest to just open it and see what it says." I pulled out the envelope addressed to "Roxanne Pelligrini" and sliced it open with my fingernail.

"Whoa, wait!" Roxy shouted, as she tried to grab the letter from me. "I changed my mind! I don't wanna know!"

"Too late," I told her.

"No, wait! Gimme!" Roxy grabbed the envelope from me, pulled the letter from inside, and stared at it intently.

My heart felt like it was about to burst as I watched her eyes scan the paper. Finally, she held it up to my eyes and pointed something out. "This word here: is that 'Negative'?"

"It sure is." I wiped the tears from my eyes and smiled. "Thank God, it sure is."

Roxy paced in place for a moment, and then stuck her fist in the air. "Fuck yeah!" She tossed the letter on the bed and grabbed my arms. "Fuck yeah, I'm negative!"

I grinned as we did the silliest dance we could think of, dodging mountains of clothes and dirty dishes.

Then, she stopped and grasped my shoulders tightly. "Aren't you gonna open yours?"

"Oh…but you're negative, so I should be fine."

Roxy shook her head. "Yeah, well, needles aren't the only way you can get AIDS, and you definitely tried some dick before you found out you're queer." She threw herself on the bed and began to chuckle. "Hell, I didn't see any rubbers on that island Jem and her Holo-turkeys stranded us on, did you?"

I blushed when I thought back to my brief encounter with Angus Bean, amid the lushness of a deserted, tropical setting.

Almost immediately, I remembered the last time I saw him, several months later, after he'd made numerous attempts to rekindle that brief attraction.

"They say persistence is a virtue, Princess," he told me, smiling as he rubbed his fingers over his now neatly-trimmed beard.

I wish I'd told him then that as much as I liked him, I was still trying to understand who I really was.

I don't even remember what I ended up telling him.

I just remember him walking away…

"-You could've been carrying around all kinds of crazy diseases! We might hafta put you in one of those bubbles, like they stuck John Travolta in!"

Roxy had been talking the whole time, and I'd lost track. "You mean, like on _Welcome Back, Kotter?_"

Roxy shot me an annoyed glare. "Just open your envelope, Stormer."

I took a deep breath and tore it open. Under "Mary Phillips" was a boatload of medical jargon that nearly made my eyes glaze over. Finally, as Roxy barged over to my side and began reading over my shoulder, I found the line I was looking for…

"Negative!" Roxy shouted, as she wrapped her arm around my shoulder and began squeezing the life out of me. "We kick ass!"

I let out a relieved sigh as I nodded. "Well, we're _lucky_, I think."

I wasn't used to seeing Roxy in a thoughtful mood, and it always surprised me. "Yeah, I guess you're right," she whispered, as she stared at the floor.

I put my hand up to her cheek, until she looked up at me. "Hey," I told her, "I'm so glad you took the test."

She nodded softly. "Yeah, I guess I am too."

We stood in silence for a brief moment.

Fortunately, quiet moments never last too long with Roxy around.

"Hey, I got an idea!" she announced. "Let's call that resort Jetta's staying at, and say her test came back positive! We can tell her we're gonna put her in that bubble they stuck John Travolta in!"

"Roxy, I don't know if that's a good idea. She'll be so upset… and _what_ bubble, anyway?!"

She picked up her bass and plucked out the opening notes of "Universal Appeal," with a grin. "Ok, first we're gonna yank Jetta's chain, and then we're gonna go to the video store, cause it's clear you don't know a damn thing about anything!"

I started to speak, when Roxy glanced up at me with a smirk.

In an instant, we both dissolved into giggles.

My best friend and I spent the rest of the day laughing together.

* * *

(Special thanks to my beta tester, AllieGee).


End file.
